


Initiation

by blackmoonalcolyte (jomipay)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Blood, Branding, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Dubious Consent, Initiation, Injury, M/M, Multi, Other, Sadism, Sex Pollen, Violence, dub con, sex potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jomipay/pseuds/blackmoonalcolyte
Summary: Guivres liked for those in her presence to wear black. She liked being the only thing gold and glittering in the room.He kept his head bowed as Silas had directed him until she was immediately in front of him. Until the heat coming off her in waves was almost painful. And then she cupped his face, clawed fingers pressing into his jaw, his pulse point, searing his skin with her touch, and forced him to look at her. He managed not to cry out in pain. He gasped instead, and the sound carried in the relative silence of the room. Being this near to her was actively painful and her eyes were so bright gold they were hard to look into, but he managed. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out as she turned his head this way and that, examining him. Her lips curled into a smile, pleased with whatever she saw, and she released him and took a few merciful steps away.
Relationships: Guivres/Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29
Collections: A Wilde Week 2020





	Initiation

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little darker than what I usually write. Tagged as dub con for sex pollen/lust potion use.
> 
> Written for the ‘apathy’ prompt for day 1 of A Wilde Week.

He’d met Guivres in person once, and he’d never spoken directly to her. Silas had done all the talking, and Oscar had knelt behind him and kept his head bowed with his gaze fixed firmly on the glittering black marble of the floor. Listening to her voice was uncomfortable, it reverberated around the cavern, bounced around unpleasantly in his head. Silas has warned him not to look directly at her until she wanted him to, but even so, he could see the reflections of her golden scales in the marble at his feet. He tried to tame the pounding of his heart by focusing on the sound of Silas’s voice, the familiar up and down cadence of his lilting accent. Silas had prepared him for this, and he trusted him. It was important for an agent to trust their handler. If you could trust no one else, you could trust your handler.

Silas patted him on the shoulder when they were done, gave him a winning smile. 

“She likes you.” 

Oscar wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a comfort.

He was shaking. He hadn’t realized until Silas gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll be initiated next week.”

That was all the information he would get. He was going to be an official meritocratic agent. Gone we’re the days of being a deniable asset. He’d proven himself well enough that the dragons were willing to claim him. He wanted to feel proud, but all he could manage were nerves. He caught the last of an expression flit across Silas’s eyes. It was an expression he’d never seen in the other man’s face before and for the life of him, he could t parse what it was.

_ *** _

Guivres liked for those in her presence to wear black. She liked being the only thing gold and glittering in the room.

He kept his head bowed as Silas had directed him until she was immediately in front of him. Until the heat coming off her in waves was almost painful. And then she cupped his face, clawed fingers pressing into his jaw, his pulse point, searing his skin with her touch, and forced him to look at her. He managed not to cry out in pain. He gasped instead, and the sound carried in the relative silence of the room. Being this near to her was actively painful and her eyes were so bright gold they were hard to look into, but he managed. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out as she turned his head this way and that, examining him. Her lips curled into a smile, pleased with whatever she saw, and she released him and took a few merciful steps away.

He collapsed forward onto the floor, unshed tears spilling onto the black marble beside his trembling hands. 

“Strip.”

He obeyed.

Guivres raked her eyes over his form and he could feel his skin reddening, burning from her proximity. Finally she settled her eyes on one of his hips and knelt beside him. She tangled her claws into his hair and wrenched his head backward as she caressed his face with her other hand, leaving a trail of blistered skin in its wake. He shuddered violently when his tears flowed over it. He tasted the sharp metallic edge of blood in his mouth as he bit into his tongue to keep from screaming.

She cooed down at him, delighted. “Such a pretty one Silas has brought me.”

She pointed a finger with the hand she'd burnt his face with, touched the sharp point of the claw over the edge of his right hip bone. 

“Tell me, do you promise to serve me well, as a faithful and loyal agent?”

Her voice reverberated in his head and it hurt almost as much as the heat radiating off of her, almost as much as the tip of her claw beginning to sink into his skin. Her eyes were narrowed at him and her mouth was open, showing him the points of her sharp teeth, daring him to say anything other than  _ ‘yes’. _

He swallowed and found his voice to answer. “I promise.”

Her face broke open into a delighted and feral smile. Her eyes flashed with glee and she snarled. 

“Silas tells me you’ve a lovely singing voice…” she wrenched his head another painful inch backwards by his hair. “I’m sure it’ll sound just as beautiful when you’re screaming, please don’t keep quiet on my account, I do so adore it when they scream.” 

She gave him no other warning before she plunged the tip of her claw, glowing with some kind of magic, into his skin. He could not have kept quiet. It was the most painful thing he had ever felt in his life. It was hot, white hot, like being branded, but infused with a magic that was definitely not benevolent. The scream that erupted from his throat was without a doubt the loudest sound he had ever made and it was deafening as it echoed around the cavern. Her smile widened cruelly. The world narrowed to her finger tearing through and cauterizing his skin and then his vision blurred and he remembered nothing but screaming.

When he came to, it was to a sore and raw throat and the taste of blood on his tongue. He could feel his skittering pulse in the wound on his hip as it throbbed. His vision came back to him slowly, still blurry at the edges. Silas was knelt at his side with a goblet full of some clear liquid. He put a hand at the back of his head using it to tilt his head up while bribing the rim of the goblet to his lips for him to drink. The liquid was bitter but it soothed the ache of his throat as he swallowed it and soon the pain in his hip dulled as well. 

Silas helped him sit upright. He examined the wound on his hip, hovering shaking fingers over the angry pink edges of it. It was a golden dragon, about the size of his hand, burned into him like a brand but in gold that somehow shined under his skin. Guivres was watching him, lounging in her throne, wearing an amused expression.

Silas took a drink from the cup and then passed it off to one of the figures in the shadows, who lifted it to their lips and then passed it off in turn. He had thought the drink was just a potion, something for the pain, a reward for suffering. It had initially dulled the urgency of his injuries, making his body pleasantly numb, a nice change from the onslaught of sensation it had just been forced through. But his body was growing warm again, his skin flushing, his cock growing hard.

Guivres cooed at him from her throne. “You did so well, pet. It’s time for your reward.”

He felt his mind slipping away from him, a fog trying to settle over it like a blanket. His breathing quickened and he reached out for Silas. Silas ran a hand over his neck and Oscar moaned at the sensation as it lit up the frayed nerves of his skin. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened, not understanding what was happening, trying to maintain control of his mind and body. 

“It’s okay Oscar, it’ll all be over soon.”

Silas looked down at him for a moment as Oscar’s body thrummed with arousal and he fought against the lust blooming in his mind. Silas soothed a hand over his side and pleasure blossomed under his skin and he fought against the moan it ripped from his throat. 

“We’re going to make you feel so good. You’re one of us now.”

The other figures in the room were approaching now, throwing off their robes and clothes as they went. He leaned into Silas’s touch. He wanted to impress them, he wanted to do well for them. He wanted to be one of them. Oscar threw a look at Silas and watched as his pupils dilated, almost completely eclipsing his brown irises.

“Do you trust me?”

Oscar nodded.

“Do you trust us?”

He nodded again.

Silas captured Oscar’s mouth in a bruising kiss as the rest of the figures crowded the space around him. A rough hand settled over his hard cock and several different hands grabbed at his thighs, his hair, his ass. He gave in to the overwhelming pleasure, the feeling of hands all over his skin, the feeling of being wanted and the fog finally settled over his mind, firmly blocking out everything that wasn’t lust. 

He woke up in a bed that wasn’t his with the memory of how had gotten there floating somewhere beneath the grogginess in his head. He was in Silas’s flat, he recognized the red velvet of the chaise lounge at the foot of the four poster bed. He’d never been in Silas’s bed before. They had a strictly professional relationship, it was important for an agent to trust their handler, it was important to….

His head was pounding and the pain in it pulsed with each beat of his heart. The first thing he noticed with his dawning awareness was Silas seated near the bed. He watched as Oscar struggled with his confusion, as he shifted to sit up in the bed and realized how much everything hurt. The skin over his hip ached and burned, and his limbs were heavy and sore and there was a twinging between his legs, like he’d only ever experienced when he’d gotten too impatient to let a lover prepare him thoroughly when they fucked him, only this was so much worse. But that didn’t make any sense, he hadn’t even had sex last night…

Horror briefly flooded his body as his mind cleared enough for memories to surface. He began to tremble and threw back the covers, immediately finding the golden dragon carved and burned into his hip. There were bruises in the shape of fingers scattered over both of his thighs and hips and he remembered people he’d never met before holding him down, grabbing at his thighs to spread them wider, to fuck him harder, to drag him over to the next person when the last had finished inside him or come on his face. He touched a hand to his face subconsciously. It seemed someone had cleaned him up, at least. He brushed against the burn on his cheek and remembered crying as Guivres touched him, how it stung, and how much it stung when come splattered over it. Only he’d moaned at that. It had hurt and his mind had convinced him it felt good, that everything his body felt was pleasurable. 

It was...overwhelming, to say the least. He  _ had _ enjoyed himself, but there was a disconnect between the way his body and mind remembered the events that he was struggling to reconcile.

He remembered a man pulling him down onto his thick cock over and over again, his thick fingers in a vice grip around his already bruised hips, over the tender, tender flesh of his new brand as Guivres sat in her throne and  _ smiled _ . Something inside of him remembered the ache of his hips, the discomfort of being penetrated for the umpteenth time with not enough lubrication, being sure he was rubbed raw and bleeding and  _ moaning through it. _

It had genuinely felt incredible at the time. Whatever they had given him had lit his body up and every touch had been nothing but ecstasy. It was like the lust potions that sometimes made the rounds at Dionysus parties. He could deal with that. He mentally added ‘sex potions’ and ‘orgies’ to the list of things that were possible with Guivres now. As well as the label ‘sadist’.

There was a dip in the bed as Silas sat beside him, taking him into his arms and petting his hair. 

“I can heal you, now that it should be out of your system.”

Silas grabbed a potion from the bedside table and held it out to him. The healing potion took away the worst of the pains and bruising, but the brand remained.

Silas sat with him most of the day. He ran his fingers through Oscar’s hair, made him tea and something to eat. He remembered the way Silas had touched his hair during, how it had felt to have Silas within him, around him. He’d been gentle, had kept a comforting hand on him, had held his hand through some of the rougher participants' attentions. 

“There is no refusing Guivres.” Silas said, making sure Oscar understood what he was now, that the brand in his hip meant he belonged to the golden dragon. As much as it had hurt to have her touching him, he did not regret it. He wanted to do it again. Silas, caressed his cheek, now healed, though he imagined he could still feel the sting. He imagined what it might feel like to have Guivres kiss him firmly on the mouth.

“I know.” Oscar said. The weight of it settling over his chest like a stone he would never be able to remove.

He always felt too much. It was the hardest thing about adjusting to this life. Deciding how to feel about his work, about what he believed, about what he was doing, and now about what was being done to him. For once, he decided to do something differently and tried to feel nothing.

He pulled Silas down against him, pressed their lips together. He wanted to feel what it was like to be together again. What it was like when it was just them.

  
  


Oscar became one of Guivres’ favorites. She had him sing for her. He would kneel at her feet as she pet his hair and try to keep his voice even while agents copulated around them, all high with the effects of one of her lust potions or spells. It was a strange existence, to be expecting some kind of mix or pleasure and pain whenever he went in to report to Guivres, but he always did well and he preened with the attention and praise she lavished on him. Silas had always been nearby, the entire time he was an agent. She would watch them sometimes, as he and Silas writhed together on the marble floor, hips coming desperately together and apart, moaning into each other’s open mouths as she smiled at them with her gleaming golden eyes. Sometimes she just watched. Other times she would come closer, place a burning hand over one of their necks and smile as they cried out into the other’s mouth. 

Silas stayed with Guivres, but Oscar worked for Apophis when he became a handler, and Apophis was decidedly not Guivres. 

***

He’d been with Zolf for three months. Barnes and Carter had only been around a few weeks. They were making their way to Japan, being careful as they crossed the continent when he’d gotten word that someone had tracked down a valuable contact, someone he might know. Zolf has asked him to be careful. They knew precious little about the veins and the people that bore them. But Oscar knew Silas. It would be fine.

Nothing seemed off, initially. His eyes were the same, his face was the same, if more wrinkled. Oscar gushed about how good it was to see him and Silas smiled, a smile that in retrospect, didn’t quite fit his face. Silas never smiled so wide, Silas hardly ever smiled at all. He wanted to believe it was Silas so badly. That the person that had always been there for him through many of his most vulnerable moments was here to help him through another vulnerability. 

Silas said something strange. He was talking about sleeping with him. Didn’t he want to just forget about everything for a while and go for a tumble? Silas never talked about sex. They never talked about sleeping together. Silas was endearingly shy when it came to their sexual relationship. It mostly happened in Guivres cavern, in front of her, for her. He hated talking to Oscar about sex because Oscar would tease him and he was so easy to embarrass, so easy to fluster. Oscar slid his desk drawer open, and wrapped his hand slowly around a letter opener, painfully aware of the shackles around his ankles. 

Whatever was pretending to be Silas caught his hand mid swing and pulled him over the desk with a frightening amount of strength. He scrabbled away on the floor, trying to get back up on his feet, reaching around him for something,  _ anything _ he could use to fight back with. The creature advanced on him, letter opener in hand and Oscar scratched at his eyes as he looked down over him. The creature slashed angrily at him in response, the blade of the letter opener catching his cheek just below his eye and slashing his face open through his lip and to his jaw. Blood poured into his mouth. The creature straddled him, unfazed by Oscar’s attempts to throw him off or hurt him by striking him. 

The letter opener clattered to the floor and the creature wrapped its hands around his neck. Oscar kicked uselessly as his air supply was cut off. 

“Calm down, I’m not going to kill you.” It said.

Tears of frustration, anger at being so bloody helpless and useless, streamed down his face. 

The creature tilted its head to the side, studying him curiously. 

“You’re crying.” It paused. “You cried sometimes when she touched you. Why did you cry if you liked it? ” 

This creature may have had Silas’s memories, but he knew for certain that whatever was left of Silas was either gone or totally inaccessible. Because Silas  _ knew.  _ Silas knew why he let her touch him, why he cried as her touch burned his skin as her kisses seared his lips. Silas knew how he craved her attention, her love, how badly he wanted to make her proud, show her how much he could take for her.

Oscar grunted in response and fumbled his hand around wildly looking for anything to help him as his vision blurred at the edges.

“Wasn’t it what you wanted? Didn’t you want to serve them? You liked having her attention. You could have it again. You could have my attention again. She could tell you how pretty you are, I could tell you how pretty you are. You just have to become like us.”

With the last dregs of consciousness, Oscar stretched his arm out further. His hand came into contact with something, something with a sharp edge. 

“Don’t you want to serve us again, Oscar?”

“No.” Oscar replied, plunging the point of a quill into the artery at his throat and watching the spray of blood erupt from the wound. 

The creature backed off enough for Oscar to wriggle free. He crawled over to the letter opener and plunged it into the creature's head with as much strength as he had left. It slumped to the floor and Oscar huddled under his desk with his knees curled to his chest until Zolf found him a few hours later.

He tried not to feel any kind of way about it. A person he’d cared about, a person he thought maybe he’d loved, a person who’d seen him at his most vulnerable, had just tried to kill him. No, something wearing Silas’s skin had just tried to kill him and now that title belonged to Zolf. Zolf who had stitched his face back together and not said anything about the crying. There was no Silas, no Guivres, no system to believe in anymore. The world was different now, but he still had a brand over one hip decrying his loyalty to a dragon that for all intents and purposes was dead, and now he had a scar that changed the way he smiled. He didn’t have to feel any kind of way about that.

**Author's Note:**

> I am super nervous about this one 😬 I have no idea if any of this worked or not or if I just smashed words out of my head and they made no sense! Regardless, thank you for reading!


End file.
